Prisoners of War
by addicted2airwolf
Summary: story one - Hawke follows another lead on his brother's whereabouts, but what fruits will his search bring, assuming he can make it out of there alive after being captured?
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

Drawing the bow across the strings of the Stradivarius cello in one last long arch to end the doleful and melancholy instrumental piece, he paused, taking a moment for himself just to think, contemplating what he should do now. Le would be coming back from the summer camp he had insisted he just had to go to. Now all he had to finish the official paperwork to complete the process of adopting the boy and raising him as his own son, at least until Saint John came back. Then he could raise Le himself if he chose, and otherwise he would continue to raise Le van Hawke himself. These all had been simple decisions to make, there seeming to be no other logical thing to do. What made him have to think were the rest of his plans. To live a quiet life. With a secluded cabin in the woods, accessible only by helicopter or horseback, and very little reason to need to go to town very often, it didn't sound too hard. But there was a complicating factor. Saint John. Airwolf missions could be lived without; she was a joy to fly, but not a necessary part of life. Saint John on the other hand, was a necessary part, practically an obsession. He would not abandon his brother somewhere in a southeastern Asian jungle, he wouldn't, he just wouldn't. Living a quiet life and flying Airwolf on mission to find his MIA brother didn't quite mesh together though, it was kind of like deciding you hated flying and then becoming a pilot, it just didn't work. What would he do? He promised Le he would always be there for him, that even if he wasn't Saint John's son he would still be there for him, that he would be like a father, but he also swore he'd be back for Saint John, no matter what.

Stringfellow Hawke was not one to go back on promises, regardless of what it cost him personally, yet it seemed a broken promise was inevitable in the circumstances. Which would he choose, Le or Saint John? He had always been close to his older brother, as young kids, teenagers, and throughout the war, until that dreaded day nearly sixteen years ago. Le he hadn't known as long, but he was Saint John's son, he just had to be, there wasn't any other logical explanation. Many would call it stupid and foolish to give up a twelve year old kid for your older brother who might be alive. Many would also consider Saint John dead though, or he might as well be. Really, what was the likelihood of him still being alive after all these years? Honestly, to him it didn't matter. Saint John had made a promise many years ago when their parents had died in a ill-fated boating accident that he would be there for String, that he wouldn't leave him all alone. He believed him then, and still did now. Saint John was alive, and he was going to bring him home.

Rising to his feet and gently setting the cello down on its stand by the fireplace, he decided it would wait. He still had time to ponder exactly what he would do if Michael came up with another lead on Saint John's whereabouts. A pained feeling of regret surged through him though. He told himself he had time to think about it, to logically decide what would be the greater good, but he was pretty sure he knew exactly what he'd do at a moments notice.

Outside water poured down in continuous torrents, wind whipping through the trees and cool gusts biting the air. The weather matched his mood, its hard edge to his rough thoughts. The waves of the lake tumbling and raging against one another like his thoughts jumbled into one another, emotions a little loose now that he was on his own.

Pouring himself a shot of whiskey and throwing it back, he willed himself to calm down and take things as they come. If selling everything and going on an all out continuous search, scouring every inch of that damned jungle, would help he would have done it years ago. He knew that all too soon his resources would be used up and he wouldn't be even this far, he also knew that some things he might have to do to bring his brother back wouldn't be easy, and definitely not enjoyable; he knew that he would go through hell or high water, to the ends of the earth, to bring his beloved brother back home. If necessary he would sacrifice his own life in return for his brother's.

Where was he now, at this very moment?

What kind of condition was he in?

He knew that plenty of them that had come back came back with multitudes of problems, some physically abused, others mentally, psychological damage that was yet to be repaired, images permanently embedded upon their brains. No one who came back was the same. No human being could see that much pain and grief, watch that many lives be taken right before their eyes, and many of them loosing family and friends, and come back just like they were beforehand. He still battled sometimes with post traumatic stress disorder and he had come out of it pretty well. He'd take poor Saint John and way he could get him though, no doubt about it. He wished him the best, but even if something that had happened caused him to be physically or psychologically impaired he would still love him just the same. Anything would be better than him being dead.

Supposedly time eased pain, but lately it seemed just the opposite for him. True, at first a little time helped him get past the emotional, reckless, desperate state, but he also knew every minute he was out there his odds were decreasing that he would come back safely.

Hawke picked up his fishing pole and sunglasses and walked out to the dock, climbing aboard his little skiff and rowing out a ways then dropping a line. He thought some time on his own to sort things out himself would be best for him, but not in Dom's eyes he quickly found out from his surrogate father's displeasure of him being almost constantly at the cabin for the last two weeks while Le had been gone. Dom said that he couldn't just spend all his time alone at the cabin with just Tet, and he knew it, but to him the solitude was much more pleasurable than Dominic's constant prying. Once Saint John was home again he could worry about that other details that plagued daily life.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

Le van Hawke tossed up a hand in semblance of a wave to his friend still standing near the bus and took his bag toward the starred and striped red, white, and blue Santini Air jeep. Throwing his duffel into the back, he climbed in next to his uncle.

"Hey, Half-Pint, have a good time?"

"Pretty good," he answered. "The horse rides were nice and some of the games were alright, but that cabins weren't near as nice as yours, Uncle String."

Hawke allowed a half grin to briefly appear. True, his cabin probably did have a few luxuries that camp's didn't, but ha and his friends must've enjoyed each other's company. There were still plenty of things to work out, but all things considered, things were going pretty well and he was growing rather fond of the boy. He didn't want to lose him any more that he wanted to lose Saint John or wouldn't want to lose Dom or Cait. He was a part of the family. It was a mismatched odd family, but a family nonetheless, the only one he had.

"Are we going back up to the cabin?" Le inquired.

"Yeah…. Unless you'd rather hang out at the hangar for a while first."

"I'd like to say hi to Uncle Dom first, but then we can go back.

Was this really fair? he found himself asking. Just because he wanted to live in his grandfather's cabin isolated away from the city didn't mean Le did. After all, he was only a twelve year old boy, he had friends of his own. Not everyone was a vegetarian hermit, preferring to keep to himself and brood alone than be in the comfort and company of friends like him. Ok, maybe it wasn't quite that bad, but still not too far off the mark, he admitted ruefully.

Passing tree lined roads and empty field, they continued on toward town in silence. Even Le was quiet, seemingly to have lost interest in the summer excursion he had been so eager to go on. Was this any kind of life to press upon a young boy? He could definitely understand the displeasure of being forced into something you didn't want. It was a lot of change for both of them. Le was still getting over the death of his Aunt Minh, and now a new home, new people, new a lot of things. Him going from living alone with occasional visitors to suddenly caring for a twelve year old boy, his nephew. A difficult decision between continuing his hunt for his brother and caring for his brother's son.

"Uncle String?"

"Yeah?"

"Didn't we just pass the hangar?"

Sure enough, he had been too caught up in his own thoughts instead of paying attention to where he was going and flew past the hangar. Turning around abruptly, he sped back over the ground he'd just covered then stopped suddenly in front of the metal building.

"In a hurry or something?" Dominic teased.

Hawke didn't offer any comment in reply. "Le wanted to say hello before we head back up to the cabin."

"How long this time?"

He shrugged. "Don't know yet."

"String…You've got to…"

"I know, Dom," he interrupted.

"But you're not doing anything about it," Dom argued.

"Later. We'll talk about it later."

\A/

The Jet Ranger landed smoothly on the wooden dock overhanging to the lake, skids touching down gently and the rotors spinning lazily to a stop. The two of them climbed out and started towards the cabin, Hawke pausing upon reaching the porch.

"You can go ahead in and get settled," he told Le. "I'll be in and fix dinner in a few minutes."

Le nodded, going inside, and left Hawke to his thoughts once again.

I've had too much time to think by myself, he mused, sometimes thinking about something too long just further complicated things, and now was turning into one of those times.

He watched the orange sun sink below the violet mountain tops, the left over pink rays streaking through the sky and disappearing out of sight beyond the horizon, a single eagle soaring on an updraft across the sky, beauty and power in every flap of her wings, then perching on a strong banch, folding her wings unto herself only for a moment, then screeching a triumphant call as she left her perch, swooping down low over the water, reaching down and snatching a fish out of the water.

A life like that would be perfect, he thought. No fears or cares, no worry, just freedom to fly wherever and whenever she chose, in perfect harmony with the sky.

With a deep sigh, he turned and walked inside.

Tet was laying on the rug next to the fireplace, Le rubbing his ears affectionately, a contented smile on his face.

Maybe he wouldn't hate it as much as he was making this up to be. Maybe, just maybe, everything would turn out all right after all. A chance to live a reasonably normal life, to still get to fly, and to have his own little family. That was all he'd ever really wanted and now all he had to was wait for Michael's next direction. Pick up Saint John and life would be all good, his family once again united. Until then, he could get used to this.

Hawke pulled out a couple cans, some cheese, a box of noodles, and some spinach, mixing ingredients together and layering them between the long, fat noodles, and putting what was to be their dinner in the oven, then poured himself a large mug of coffee before going to join Le and Tet by the fire. It was a calm, peaceful, moment in time where everything else, all the problems, temporarily seemed to melt away so that they could just enjoy the evening together.

Le looked around inquisitively. He was already familiar with the cabin's layout from his previous visit, but this would be the first time he would actually be staying for good.

After dinner, Hawke set his mug on the table beside the sofa, picked up his guitar and began to strum a tune unfamiliar to Le, then just playing with it, making it up as he went.

Le snuggled up next to Tet on some cushions on the floor, warmed by the warm, relaxing crackling of the fire, and soon fell asleep.

Getting up from the sofa and setting the guitar aside, Hawke pulled a blanket over the sleeping boy and took his mug back to the kitchen, then heading up to the loft to get some sleep himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

Due to Archangel's request, Hawke found himself in a spacious office that was far from comfortable for him the following morning, waiting. If Michael was trying to get him to refuse any mission he might want, immediately being on the defensive, and in an overall irritable mood, this was serving its purpose; otherwise, he had better get in here quick or he would be likely to loose all semblance of patience and walk out now.

Clothed in his usual pristine white three piece suit, Michael strode into the office, his also white clad assistant Marleen behind him with coffee for the two of them, probably trying to appease him and warm him up to the mission. He was in no mood to be warmed to and appeased though.

Ignoring the cup of coffee that had just been set before him, he got straight to business. "What'd you want, Michael? Obviously not a social call, you might've shown up when you said you would."

"Listen, Hawke, I'm sorry it took so long, but I hadn't exactly planned this into my already very busy morning."

"Michael doing something impromptu? I don't believe it."

"Don't go there Hawke," the deputy director warned. "I had a committee meeting that wasn't going well and it ran a little long."

"Yeah. Only forty minutes a little long. I've got a life too you know, now I've even got a twelve year old boy to care for. If you've got something to say spit it out, otherwise let me know and I will happily leave you to your busy morning schedule that I am not planned into but for some reason am still sitting here."

"Last night I had Marella looking through some old files for one of our current jobs and she found some misplaced files."

"And this affects me how?"

"They were on your brother."

\A/

"Finally decided to show up?" Dominic grouched. "You were supposed to be here for the movie stunt two hour ago."

"Sorry Dom. Michael wanted to see me."

"And it took two hours?"

"I left Le with Cait and Michael's committee meeting ran late."

Dom shook his head in exasperation. "You're here now, I guess that's what matters. Le's in the back, and I sent Cait on the stunt. What did Mr. Clean have to say?"

"He turned up something on Saint John."

"Saint John, huh?"

"Michael said an agent he had stationed near Vietnam heard rumor about some POWs being moved and decided to investigate."

"How long ago?"

"A month ago. She was supposed to report back last week to Washington, but she never made it. Reportedly killed two hours before her flight was due to take off."

"You know how long a month can be with these things, String. You yourself said they were about to be moved. There's no telling where they could be by now."

"When her daughter went to clean out her belongings she found a journal entry dating to just the day before she was scheduled to leave. It said the move was canceled and they were to start renegotiating moves in a week and half."

"That would be…"

"Two days from now," Hawke finished. "With Airwolf that gives me plenty of time to get over there in time to stop the move, and to rescue Saint John."

"Two days isn't much time to mount a rescue mission. It'd take me a while just to reschedule the lessons planned for while we'd be gone."

"Cait can take them," Hawke suggested hastily, "or I could take her instead. I'll go alone if I have to. You know I'd do anything to finally get Saint John out."

"It's not worth getting yourself killed," Dominic admonished.

"It would be if he made it back," the younger man replied without hesitation."

"String…"

"I mean it, Dom. He is the main reason I've fought to stay alive."

"But String, he might not even still be alive. What would you do then?"

"My brother's still alive and I'm going back for him. If he weren't I would know it."

"He's MIA, no one knows what happened to him for sure . He could've been killed in action sixteen years ago for all we know."

"He's alive. I wouldn't be still looking for him if he weren't. If he had been killed be buried in Arlington right now, and I wouldn't have worried as much about still being here today, or even coming back from 'Nam."

That was another painful blow to Dom, another punch to his gut, another stabbing knife; a painfilled hurt grew inside him. It hadn't been easy losing Saint John, far from it, but loosing both of them would have been simply unbearable. They were like sons to him, both of them, and he didn't want to lose either one of them any more than any father would want to lose a son. Hearing what was practically his own son talking like that, almost suicide, was terrible, horrible, insufferable. He didn't want to believe Saint John was dead. But that's what all the odds said. Him being alive after all these years, the pain and torture, physically and mentally, all that he must've gone through, it probably would be better for him to be dead. As much as he hated it, it was easier not to open up that hurt all over again. Saint John was just gone, and even String would have to accept that eventually.

"Listen Dom," String said quietly. "I sorry. I never meant to hurt you, I wouldn't purposefully get myself killed, but this is something I have to do."

"I know," Dominic replied after a heavy sigh. "I know, kid. I don't want to lose you too though, and you are not going alone."

Clapping the younger man on the back, he turned towards the jeep. "I guess this means we're off to Vietnam now?"

\A/

Caitlin picked up the phone that had been ringing continuously in the kitchen.

"Cait, it's Hawke. I have a favor to ask."

"Ask away."

"Would you watch Le for me for a while."

"I do believe you already asked me to do that," she pointed out.

"Ok, I need you to continue to watch him."

"How long?"

"I don't really know. Archangel found a new lead on my brother, Dom and I are going to get him out."

"So you want me to watch Le while you're gone," she reasoned. "What about the lessons tomorrow?"

"Kind of need you to take those too."

"Alright," she agreed. I'll take care of it."

"Thanks Cait."

"Just remember, you owe me one."

"I owe you a lot more than that."

"Good luck, and be careful."


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

**3000 feet over the jungles of **

**Vietnam**

**11:00 PM**

"All scans - thermal, matrix, standard and audio- running," Dom confirmed.

The jungle was dense alright, and just as green and hot as he remembered, but it wasn't anything that should stop Airwolf's highly sensitive scanners. Why weren't they finding anybody then?

"Still nothing. Hey, wait a minute String, I think I found something."

His hopes soared. They'd already been over the area countless times and finally they'd found something; this just had to be it.

"About two hundred yards ahead," Dominic directed. "There's an abandoned looking shack and what could serve as a basic prison just outside. Five life forms, four of them living."

"Lets go take a look."

Backing off and landing in the nearest clearing he could find, Hawke soon had Airwolf landed, hidden, and secured and was ready to begin his hunt.

Dom let the younger man take the lead as they picked their way through the dense foliage, surprised at how well String seemed to know the area. Sure, he'd spent more than enough time here as a young man. Three tours had given him plenty of time to get to know the land, but that had been over fifteen years ago. He was about to make some smart-aleck comment when he decided against it. It just wasn't a good idea; Vietnam and Saint John were not things to be joked about with String.

"Stay here," he heard Hawke order in a low whisper.

He was about to object when String threw him a meaningful look. "Please. I'll come back if I find him."

Reluctantly, Dom agreed.

String crept onward through the bushes, stealthily sneaking up on the camp.

\A/

Le sat at the table, picking through his scrambled eggs and toast.

"Cait."

"What is it?"

"Why can't I go with Uncle String? If his brother is my dad… I at least want to meet him."

"It's just too dangerous, sweetie."

"I'm not afraid of them. I did live there for almost ten years."

"No one said you were afraid. I'm sure he would have even liked to have taken you along with him, but he doesn't want to risk you getting hurt."

"I'm not going to get hurt, they don't scare me. And I don't need anyone babysitting me all the time."

"Le, it's not that anyone thinks you are afraid. He just doesn't want to risk the possibility of anyone unecessarily getting hurt."

He seemed to at least understand now, even if he didn't like it.

"Sorry Cait, I just really would like to get to meet my father."

"I understand," she smiled. "I'd probably be the same way. Now, you want some pie?" she asked, trying to distract him.

"My favorite is key lime."

"Then you're in luck, Mr. Le van Hawke, because I have a big piece of key lime pie just waiting for you."

\A/

"Open the cage," Hawke ordered the Vietnamese, his gun trained on the man and finger looming dangerously close to the trigger. "Now!"

Looking back at the holding cage and the man with the gun aimed at his head, he understood the order and nodded, muttering to himself in Vietnamese as he pulled a large old fashioned style key out and set to work unlocking the bamboo railed cage.

For once this seemed to be going pretty easily, Hawke thought to himself, but not once letting his grip on the M-16 fall. It wasn't over yet though, and he wouldn't relax until Saint John was back home again.

One prisoner was shoved forcefully toward him, falling at his feet in a heap.

"The rest," he told the guard, again pointing to the remaining prisoners.

"No," he said, shaking his head, "can't do."

"The rest," he repeated, his tone leaving no room for negotiating, "Now."

The guard glared back at Hawke disdainfully but reached over to unlock the enclosure once again. This time, however, he was much quicker and the prisoners weren't shoved to their feet, but instead all came out with rifles.

"Down, on the ground." one ordered threateningly and leaving Hawke no reason to doubt he would happily blow him away.

He obeyed. Bringing his hands behind his head and dropping to his knees, his steady gaze never once wavering.

"You no escape. Americans think can get away with anything, not true. Have wasted enough our lives," the angry, grudge holding North Vietnamese warlord told him in broken English. "You will die."

Hidden behind the green foliage, Dom could watch and hear most of what was going on and knew things weren't going well for his younger friend. He also knew going in now would do neither of them any good, but he wasn't going to watch them murder his surrogate son either.

"Why even come? Not have enough killing in ten years?"

Hawke remained silent, knowing anything he said couldn't possibly help the situation.

Shoving the barrel of his gun up to Hawke's head, he warned that he had better start talking immediately or the consequences would prove to be fatal.

"What do you really want?"

"My brother. And the other POWs," Hawke answered succinctly.

"Prisoners?" he laughed. "You get them alright, you join them."

"Fine," he replied willingly. "I'll join them."

He dropped his own gun and slowly rose to his feet again, hands still behind his head, and let the Vietnamese guard roughly guide him off at gunpoint.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

Dominic stared, horror-struck, as the String let the guard bully him toward a hidden Vietnamese camp. What was he up to? He knew that if he'd tried he probably could've taken the guard out when it had only been the one man and gotten away without getting caught, and he had caught the knowing looking String had cast toward him earlier before disappearing into the jungle. He knew he was likely to get caught doing it this way instead of just taking out the guard in the first place, he also seemed to be fine with that.

Years ago, String had been a prisoner of war, only for two months, but it had been two months of hell, he'd been through that and knew what it was like, and swore he'd never do it again. He'd rather die first.

\A/

**1975**

"_String, you've got to loosen up a bit, I want him_ _found as much as you do, but brooding and sulking alone at the cabin isn't going to do any good for you or Saint John."_

_The young man didn't even acknowledge his surrogate father's admonishments and continued packing his remaining belongings to be moved to the cabin into the back of the Jet Ranger._

"_Will you just take me back up there?" he requested, interrupting the older man's ranting._

"_String, you're not listening to me, boy. Sulking alone won't do anything, neither will wasting all your time on dead end leads. They're doing all they can to find him and the other twenty five hundred MIA's._

"_Who is Dom? How? By pulling out thousands of troops who did nothing but prolong how long it would take for the North Vietnamese to take over? I've been through that - it was two months of hell, misery, torture , and pain. I'd rather die three times over than do that again, but my brother __**is **__still alive, and I __**will**__ bring him back._

\A/

He had to have some kind of plan, but what was his role in the scheme? To sneak in and get him out, or to leave him to work it out on his own? To provide a distraction for him to get away? To blow up the whole complex and end all of their misery?

Well, he had better at least follow for now or he wouldn't even know where they'd taken him, Dominic decided. Then he would figure out how to get String out and piece him back together once again when he didn't find Saint John.

Of course, Saint John could be there, and that was probably what String was planning for, and he sure hoped he was, for String's sake if nothing else. What he figured String really needed was closure, to get to see Saint John again or if he really was dead to get a chance to say goodbye, and this was the likely place for one of those to occur if it ever did, assuming he didn't get himself killed first.

Not far ahead, the Viet Cong warlord shoved Hawke forward, almost causing him to trip and fall into the murky water. "Move," he ordered authoritatively. Hawke obeyed, picking up the pace to match the quick step of his captor.

He couldn't bare to watch String be treated like that and to willingly give in without the slightest fuss; it wasn't right; it wasn't String-like. He had the temper and he had the stubbornness of a mule. Why then was he allowing them to treat him like a worthless rag doll?

Dom followed at a distance, keeping a careful eye on them as they entered the camp.

Hawke's escort directed him towards an empty makeshift cage and when he didn't move towards it fast enough, punched him in the stomach, and kicked him inside.

Even from his distance, Dom could see anger flare up in his eyes, but it only remained for a brief moment before quickly subsiding.

There had to be some plan to the madness, he decided, but what it was he couldn't figure out. And he, for one, couldn't take much more of this and he wasn't even the one being mistreated.

Hawke was sitting in the corner alone, quiet, and devoid of any visible emotion. He showed no excitement, no worry, no anxiety, no pain. He was just there, watching constantly what was going on around him, memorizing every move each of them made while remaining perfectly still himself, either unknowing or uncaring about the livid purple bruise already forming at his temple where the barrel of the gun had been shoved to his head, and probably another where he'd just gotten punched and kicked.

"Come on String, do something, anything." Even if it was something stupid, at least he would know his friend hadn't gone into some kind of shock, or lost all of his nerve for some unapparent reason, but Stringfellow Hawke remained stiller than a statue.

Dom continued watching and waiting, unsure of what to do. He couldn't watch them beat String into a pulp, but jumping in without a plan or backup was likely to get him into a position similar to Hawke's. If he could get back to Airwolf, he could use the long distance radio to call Michael and hopefully be able to arrange some reinforcements. No, that wouldn't work either and he wasn't about to leave him here.

Was this what String felt like leaving Vietnam after the war? That he was couldn't leave his brother behind, but couldn't do a thing about it either? That was why he felt it was necessary to find Saint John, because he was the one to leave him even after he swore he'd be back. He was still fulfilling his part of that promise, putting aside all the ghosts to come back here and to continue to search, continue coming back until Saint John was with him once again.

Stringfellow Hawke was not one to go back on his word, loyal to a fault, and he was going to continue looking for Saint John his whole life or until his brother was returned one way or another back to the states.

Hawke continued watching, making a mental note of everything and planning for every possible next step.

The guards had a regular route they seemed to keep traveling over and over, leaving him not near enough time to escape from his prison, not that that was currently in his plans any way. Actually his plans were very loose at the moment - to simply wait and see what would happen and what they would do to him.

He was now their prisoner, and they would treat him like a prisoner which was exactly what he wanted for the moment. Being a POW for two months was plenty for him but if it meant finally pulling Saint John out this time it would all be well worth it.

He figured that if was their prisoner and they treated him like it, eventually he would loose the special treatment and they would put him in with all the other prisoners and then he would be reunited with his brother and together they could escape and get the other POW's out too.

Until they did that though, he would have to wait.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

"Angel one to Airwolf, do you copy?" Michael tried again. Why weren't they answering? He though they would have at least reported back by now. Unless… they could've left Airwolf and gone in by foot although he wasn't sure exactly why they would.

Normally they were pretty get in, do the mission, get out in the easiest, least dangerous, and fastest way possible, but this time that didn't seem to the case. This was a little different though. Saint John, Michael thought to himself, now that was someone he would really like to meet. Probably had the same stubbornness as his younger brother and would likely only be another pain in the butt. But for Hawke to have so much admiration for him and to have so much determination that he was still alive even after sixteen years of being MIA said something; he had to be something special.

In all actuality, he knew very little about Saint John Hawke. He was Stringfellow's older brother who had been missing in action in Vietnam since '69. He had a picture and the limited amount of information there was in the computer - that was it. Hawke brought the subject up often enough, but only on finding him, not about their past. He knew that both of their parents had died in an ill-fated boating accident that the brothers had survived, that Dominic Santini had taken them in and acted as father to them from the time Stringfellow was ten and his brother fourteen, that Saint John had gone to Vietnam at nineteen and his brother had snucked in at seventeen. They'd been serving together in the same unit until July 4 of 1969. On the same day both brothers went down, String got picked up and his brother didn't. String came back multiple times, serving for two full tours and reenlisting for a third, using every opportunity he could to go back and look for Saint John. But after that, he didn't know much of anything.

Hawke wasn't really a 'sharing' person, and he didn't push the envelope much. It was easier for Hawke and safer for him that way.

\A/

Panting heavily from the quick jog back up the hillside and to Airwolf, Dom pulled open the left door and disabled the alarm, reaching inside and opening a line back to Knightsbridge while he got a drink out of the canteen and opened a can of pork and beans, enjoying every mouthful of the less than amazing canned food after a day in the steamy jungles without anything to eat.

"Airwolf, this is Knightsbridge. What's your report?"

"Still in Vietnam," he replied, "the hot and steamy jungles of southeastern Asia. String was captured, but I'm not quite sure if I need backup or not. Honestly, I'm not even sure if I'm supposed to be getting him out."

"Why wouldn't you be?"

"He seemed to go in fully aware of the fact he was walking straight into a trap. They treated him like dirt when they marched him back to the camp and he didn't act like he really cared.'

"Surely Hawke put up a fight," Michael said aloud. Stringfellow didn't just give up and give in, he fought to the end even if the odds were against him.

"None. Not even a sour look or glare. He never raised a finger against a single one of them."

Hawke's behavior puzzled him. Their were only two people in the world he believed Hawke would willingly take that kind of treatment from and he didn't thing one of them would ever treat him like that and the other was still MIA. Even from them, he predicted the façade of being uncaring would only last so long. Letting his captors take free shots at him didn't make any sense at all.

"What did he do? What kind of expression did he have? Did he show any signs of, well, anything?"

"I really don't know how to describe it. He didn't seem the least bit surprised, taking everything in stride, but when they shoved the barrel of his own gun to his head I thought I would have at least seen something He knew they weren't going to kill him right there and then but wasn't afraid of dying if it came down to it.

"Is he alright? I mean, even showing any signs of comprehending what is going on?" Marella asked now joining the conversation.

"Physically, other than a few nasty bruises, he looks to be ok. I don't know that's running through that head of his though. If it's a penny for your thoughts, I'd give whole truckloads of pennies to know what's going on up there. All day he's been watching their every move but never done anything."

"Do you want me to see if I can get a covert extraction team in?" Michael offered. "Now that we know for sure there are POWs being held there, I might be able to convince Washington to let me take action."

"Maybe. I'll try to sneak in and talk to him tonight and be in touch by first thing tomorrow morning."

Ending the radio connection and adding another clip of ammo to the his rucksack he was carrying he refilled his smaller canteen and started to hike back down to the prison camp.

The long slog seemed to be getting longer and harder the more he tried to hurry up and get back. He knew that if anything were to happen he was way outnumbered and there wasn't much he would be able to do to stop them on his own, but nevertheless, he'd feel better if he were back there keeping an eye on String.

He trekked down the hill through the thick foliage and across a shallow, murky stream back towards the prison camp.

The guards on patrol had changed shift and obviously altered their patrol route too, so he spent the next fifteen minute memorizing how often a guard passed each given point and formulation a plan of how to get in and out without being noticed.

Rechecking the clip in his gun and pulling his camouflage hat low, more for hiding purposes that to shade from the setting sun, he set off, crouched behind low branches as he neared the compound and passed the first two guards without problem. Hiding in the shadows, he rounded another corner and cam face to face with an unexpected Vietnamese captain.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

The guard watched the new prisoner with unease, He didn't look to be a threat, actually far from it, but that was what worried him the most. It was normal to be upset over being captured and imprisoned like this, to attempt escaping or to put up some kind of fuss was usual.

This soldier was not the usual though. A thin sheen of swear covered his whole body, his breathing was deep and calm. This didn't appear to be anything new to him. For the sparse conditions he had, he looked pretty relaxed, yet somehow not at all relaxed. His position was currently a lazy lounge against the bamboo bars of his cage, but his eyes darted from place to place almost constantly, always aware and alert for whatever might happen next.

He didn't exactly look like he was planning to escape any time soon though, hadn't touched a bit of food he'd been given or gotten any sleep at all. He wouldn't have the strength or stamina to successfully get away if he tried; there were to many people around to prevent him from going anywhere even if he did try.

Maybe he knew he'd never make it out alive, figured he might as well not make his days in captivity any worse than necessary. If he had been a POW at some point, he was lucky to have gotten out or rescued the first time, perhaps he knew such opportunities didn't often show themselves again.

\A/

Dragging the limp body out of sight, Dominic again began his march toward String's prison. Reaching it without any further incidents, he approached it cautiously.

"Kid," he called out in a hushed whisper from behind.

He received no response.

"String."

Taking a deep breath and slowly turning around, Stringfellow Hawke caught sight of Dom's form hidden in the dense undergrowth, easily finding him from multiple tours of experience picking out camouflaged people from their surroundings.

"I hear you, Dom."

"What're you doing?"

"What's it look like?"

"Well then what am I supposed to do? Sneak in and get you out? Use Airwolf to take out the whole place, or provide some sort of distraction? What?"

"Nothing," Hawke replied concisely.

"You want me to sit around and do nothing while they beat out all your stuffing?!" Dom exclaimed.

"No, actually it would probably be better if you left altogether."

"I'm not leaving you."

"Now you're getting it."

Dom found himself getting more and more confused by the minute. First String tells him not to do anything, then to leave, and now he said he wasn't supposed to leave. Was there something he was missing? because he sure didn't get it.

"That's basically what I told Saint John. Now it's your turn to be me and I'm Saint John."

"But you're not Saint John and intentionally getting yourself captured isn't going to help anything."

"I think it will. To find him I've got to act like him."

"String, you don't even know that he is being held here, or for that matter that he is even still alive. Please listen to reason."

"You might want to get out of here, the guards are coming back."

Dissatisfied with String's answers but left with no choice but to retreat, Dominic disappeared into the dark of the falling night once again.

String _wanted_ to be held prisoner, now that was something new to him. Never had he know someone willingly to taken captive for some stunt they were trying to pull off, hoping that if they succeeded they would suddenly have the answers they were looking for. Well he sure hoped it work for String's sake but he wasn't holding his breath, and it was going to have to work fast because he wasn't just going to sit around here forever and wait, but under no means did he intend to leave him all alone over here either, no matter why he was requested to do so.

\A/

"What's your name and rank soldier?" the man having just entered his cage interrogated.

Startled, Hawke suddenly looked up, meeting the eyes of the cold Vietnamese man's.

"Name and rank, soldier," he repeated impatiently. "I know you can tell me that much."

"Hawke," String answered, "I was US Army Captain."

"Nice try, boy, but that ain't going to work. You're no Captain Hawke, We've already had to deal with that troublemaker."

Despite his efforts to not leap to too many conclusions, his hopes climbed. If they had already dealt with a Captain Hawke it had to have been Saint John. Finally he could be reunited with his brother, he was so close. But his hopes and dreams were quickly stamped down nearly as quickly as they'd risen. They _**already had to deal**_ with that troublemaker. What had they done to him? Saint John causing them trouble didn't seem like a stretch to him, but their 'dealing' with him he might not really ever want to find out all the details on.

"What's your real name?"

"Hawke," he answered honestly. "My name is Stringfellow Hawke."

"I'm not playing games with you, boy."

"That is really my name."

The warlord shook his head in disgust and disbelief. "Take him away. Lock him up with the other prisoners and none of them get anything to eat until 'Hawke' here remembers what his real name is.

"Hear me, Captain? Nobody's getting anything until you start giving us some cooperation."

Stringfellow - where do they come up with these names? he thought as he walked off.

Hawke was hauled up to his feet and marched down some hidden paths through the jungle until they cam to another cage very similar to his previous one. It was little if any bigger than the one he had been contained in the previous few days and already crowded with about five other hot and sweaty bodies, five soldiers that looked none too happy with him.

They must've already been given the news because to him it looked like he'd be doing good if he got inside before they'd laid him out cold. Apparently they liked to eat, he thought half humouredly, he should've kept the food they'd left out for him the last couple days and let them have it. Then maybe he could keep the peace for a few minutes - hopefully long enough to explain his predicament. Unfortunately, he hadn't come up with that idea until now and it looked like he was going to have to find another way to keep the wolves at bay.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

Surprisingly enough, they didn't attack him the second he was shoved inside. They still looked none too happy with him though and he guessed he'd better start talking or he would be ducking punches instead.

First off, he looked at each one of them, the sad, hopeless, grimy faces, each showing little to no hope of ever getting back home, knowing that it's probably be better to kill themselves or have one of the other men with them kill them rather than have to continue living each day like this with no hope of it ever getting better.

One had dark black hair, three others a deep shade of auburn brown, one of them even had the brown, blond streaked tangle he was looking for, but it wasn't him.

"Saint John?" he called out helplessly, hoping someone here could help him, to be able to tell him something to encourage him, to reinforce the feeling Saint John was all live out there somewhere. Maybe one of them had seen him, knew where he was.

"Saint John?"

Each slowly shook their head in response, every one of them not a single one of them knew a thing about his brother.

"Anybody… do you know where that might have taken my brother?" he asked weakly, as he could practically feel what little bit of energy he had drain out of him.

What did it matter what they did to him? He didn't really care anymore, probably wouldn't even put up a fuss. It wouldn't change anything, so what was the point?

\A/

As night was falling again, the heat of the day still hung oppressively in the air, but Stringfellow Hawke didn't notice; he probably wouldn't have notice if it went straight from the current ninety degree weather to forty below though. The rest of the world gave way to the dark cloud that had settled over him and darkened his mood, killing his determination and perseverance, he wondered why he tried. Everyone else could accept it. Saint John was gone and there wasn't anything he could do about it. They all assumed he was dead, that they'd have to learn to live with it. Why couldn't he do the same?

What were the odds he would still be alive?

That after all theses years they would eventually be reunited? It was more than unlikely; it was on the edge of impossible. MIA for sixteen years - he could've been dead, perhaps he never made it past that day String had lost him. The odds were slim to non, he reminded himself. Maybe Saint John really was dead, in which case he should just let it go and move on, not dwell on the past and the things he couldn't change.

**1975**

_Finally alone. Hawke dropped the boxes to wooden floor of the cabin. Somehow he felt more at home here; he didn't know why, hadn't even been here in years, but he did, and home was exactly what he needed right now. Not too long ago he'd gotten out of the VA hospital after catching a round in the shoulder, but it wasn't the wound that hurt him, it was the hole in his heart. Already nearly six years Saint John had been labeled MIA - missing in action. No one he'd talked to knew where he was, and the ones that had claimed they did had either been wrong or had old information. He had nothing to go by, nothing to do but wait for another lead and hope. Saint John was still out there somewhere, he just knew it, and he would be back. _

_Ignoring the boxes of clothes and little knick-knacks, dishes, whatever might be in the boxes, he crossed the room and dropped down onto the sofa, drawing his knees up to his chest. Maybe it wasn't the 'manly' thing to do, but right now all he wanted to do was cry. Saint John was gone, the brother he'd shared so many memories with as a kid, they'd always been there for each other, but now where was he?_

_Fat tears rolled unheeded down his cheeks as he remembered all the good times they'd shared together, years that he would always remember, but maybe never be able to add to. They had done practically everything together - gone fishing, surfing, camping, gotten into trouble with their parents… When things hadn't gone well, when one of them lost a friend, got in a fight at school, and when their parents died, they'd been there for each other, sometimes talking, sharing encouraging words, sometimes just sitting silently, occasionally getting in an all out fist fight, but afterwards they always felt better. Now who was there to do that with? Sure, they had their differences, what brothers don't? But the fact was the same, they were there for each other, no matter what._

_Drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he looked around with tear filled hurt baby blue eyes. He wasn't a brave soldier that had just come from war, he was a hurt young boy in need of someone to comfort him, but not quite ready to share anything. It was still too much, too fresh in his mind. Dom would be there, ready to listen any time he was ready to share, but this wasn't something he could just share with the world, it was a hurt deep within himself, something only he could only get over by himself. Time may ease the pain, but it would never cover the scars that had been gouged into his heart. They would always be there, too much had happened for him to be perfectly whole again. Piece by piece he would slowly gather himself up and eventually assimilate back into the civilian world, but it would take time. Everything took time, he tried to keep that in mind, that he wasn't the only one missing a loved one. There were over two thousand others still missing, and all hope wasn't lost yet… _

He couldn't do it though, he needed closure, to know for sure. He couldn't stand the not knowing, He believed Saint John was still out there, alive, and he wanted to be there to rescue him. That was why he wouldn't just move on with his life, he couldn't until Saint John was back, and if he was dead, that his body be brought back and given a proper burial out by the cabin.

If he was going to continue living, then he would continue hunting.

Still, he had been so sure that Saint John would be here, that finally there would be that long awaited reunion. He could practically feel his brother's presence, but he wasn't here. He was just gone without a trace, efforts laid to waste.

\A/

"Hey kid," Dom called out from his new hiding place, "String."

Hawke didn't notice him. He was too consumed by his own thoughts. Tears welled up in his eyes, a deep sob hung in his chest, causing him to find it hard to draw in a full deep breath. Tears stung his eyes and then overflowing rolling down his cheeks and streaming off his face as he sat huddled alone in the corner.

"String," Dom said, coming out from his hiding place in the bushes, "you ok kid?"

Sighing heavily then finally raising his head, he revealed distraught, pain filled azure eyes. Blinking back the tears that threatened to keep falling, he finally acknowledged Dom's presence.

"You alright?" the older man asked concernly , knowing full and well everything was not alright.

"Yeah," he answered after a deep exhaled breath. "Gonna have to be."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Blow the whole place straight to hell," Hawke replied bluntly. "Wait, I almost forgot, it already is."

"I meant about getting you out."

"You sure you have to do that _before_ you take the place out?"

"String, I'm serious."

"Yeah, me too," he replied with a dead honesty. "I guess go get the Lady. I'll take the Huey currently landed about two miles away and bring my new inmates with me."

"You sure you'll be able to get away."

"No problem," Hawke replied with more assurance than he was actually sure of. Yes, he did believe that they could get away, but he didn't exactly think it was going to be easy.

"If you've been stuck in this cage all day, then how do you know there is a Huey two miles away?"

"I heard it land yesterday afternoon."

"You never actually saw it?"

"It's there, Dom, trust me."

"But what if it's not?"

"The we've got a problem, but it is there. We'll be ok, Dom. All you have to do is at exactly eight in the morning tomorrow rain hellfire and brimstone all over the place starting with the other enc of the complex. I'll take care of the rest."

"Ok," Dom agreed, knowing there wasn't much choice in the matter. "See you tomorrow then."


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9**

"Let's go," he told the others, waking them from their sleep.

"Where?" one asked. "There is nowhere to go."

"Suit yourselves, but I'm not sticking around anymore."

"Wait. I want out, I just don't know how in the world you plan on escaping this nightmare. None of us have succeeded yet, and if you do get out, it isn't ever long before they find you."

"I've got a plan…"

\A/

"He's going to kill me! All because of some lousy food. My name is Stringfellow Hawke. It's not my fault they won't believe me!" Hawke shouted, struggling with the other five men.

"Quiet over there," the guard warned.

'The men continued, the argument growing more heated by the moment.

"Shut up," he growled.

"You shut up!" one of the prisoners shot back.

"You listen to me," the guard ordered, "you will not tell _me _tell me to shut up and you _will _be quiet and settle down or I'll make sure all of you are dead before sun up."

Leaving the fight Hawke was already obviously loosing, the irritated prisoner came to the outermost point of the cage right up against the sturdy bamboo railing.

Coming forward to meet him face to face, the Vietnamese guard stared back at him with deep, dark, and menacing eyes.

"You'll never be able to get out on your own so stop trying to trick me into letting you out or moving you. It'll never work."

"It doesn't have to," the captive retorted, quickly reaching through the bars and grabbing the guard's knife. He plunged it into his captor's stomach then pulled it out again as the man fell lifelessly to the ground, "we'll take care of it ourselves."

\A/

Taking a seat in the pilot's chair, Dom pressed the button labeled start one and waited for the rotors to gain the necessary speed for liftoff. All systems were in the green and soon he was ready for takeoff, lifting straight up and out of the clearing and heading for the POW camp.

\A/

At last, they had sawed through the last bit of rope binding the bamboo rails together and it fell harmlessly to the ground, allowing the prisoners enough room to squeeze out.

"Good job guys, but now we have to hurry. The sun is rising and if it rises before we're out…"

"Things don't look good," Hawke finished.

"Right."

"No, I mean things don't look good right now."

They had hardly gotten free from their first obstacle and already more were presenting themselves. Men, at least twenty of them, armed with a variety of different weapons ranging from machine guns to their newest addition, Hawke's Colt, that had mostly been taking from prisoners they'd had over the years, had nearly surrounded them.

The six escapees backed up, each covering another's back as the guards closed in around them.

"What makes you think you can just get up and walk away?" the leader sneered.

"We got this far didn't we?" a major said.

"I can tell you this, I'm not planning on sticking around here and longer, so I'm getting out one way or another," Hawke rejoined in response.

"The only way you'll be getting out , Hawke, is perhaps a body bag, if you're that lucky," the guard replied cockily.

"Nah. I don't think you'd even provide me the body bag unless you planned to bury me alive in it."

"What a brilliant idea. That one hasn't been done in a while. Maybe you would like to-"

His sentence was interrupted by the breath being knocked out of him from Hawke's powerful blow.

The following several minutes were chaotic, shots ricocheting off trees and bullets burying themselves into the ground, men exchanging blows, and weapons being stolen from each other in a sole effort to stay alive.

Hawke landed on the ground hard, trying to catch his breath before the Asian man was after him again. Rogers, one of the POW's, snatched the AK-47 right out of the guard's hands and shot Hawke's attacked with it before he even had the time to realize it was missing. Hawke breathed a quick thanks before going to cover another guy's six who was about to end up weaponless and probably knocked out if not dead. One hard blow and that guard too went down, leaving only one Vietnamese guard to try fending himself from the eager to escape band of soldiers. Dropping his weapon out of shear terror, he threw up his hands and ran, disappearing into the jungle vegetation.

"Man, that was one helluva fight."

"Yeah, now let's get out of here."

Bruised and battered as they may have been, not a single one of them complained as they jogged uphill for the next two miles, a sense of victory and pride washed over each of them. Together they had overpowered their captor, and together they would go home.

Hawke took a quick glance behind him at the motley crew and felt a deep sense of accomplishment. He hadn't found Saint John yet, and yes he would keep looking of course, but together they had done well. Five more men would be free to rejoin society and live the freedom they fought so hard to keep, freedom they had earned.

Airwolf soared overhead with a challenging howl then let loose half the arsenal on the little prison village they had just escaped, almost like their own personal fireworks show, praising them for their bravery and courage, for continuing to hang on despite the odds.

Reaching the Huey, Hawke checked in with Dom, and requested he contact Archangel to arrange a flight back for them.

"No problem," Dominic promised. "Where should the Lady and I pick you up?"

"If you don't mind, you can take the Lady home. I'd like to come home with the rest of the crew."


End file.
